Untitled - Campbell University

Fresh Waters
At Dolly Sods
Approaching ice once ate these hills
and loosely flung a sheet
of high, cloud-clinging earth,
rocky horizons smoothly rolling,
the stony, gray paths pointing
back at ancient, glistening chill-fingers
that slowly groped so near,
relentlessly nudging their arctic debris
into a wind-swept lunarscape
of boulder, bear, and berry—
a land flattened by the snowflake’s delicate desolation.
In the Valley
We drove across the deep, brown Kanawha
on rust-patchy bridges painted
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